


an exchange in a desert

by hamletcat



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29670024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamletcat/pseuds/hamletcat
Summary: in which ling & lan fan grieve for an old servant
Relationships: Fu & Lan Fan, Fu & Lan Fan & Ling Yao, Lan Fan/Ling Yao
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	an exchange in a desert

**Author's Note:**

> just a note: there is description of blood about midway through this work. it's not in-depth or gory at all but i figured it would be good to mention! <3

The expanse of land surrounding the ruins of Xerxes is flat and barren; past the broken-down walls of what used to be a bustling city, Lan Fan sees nothing but sand, grey-green against the night sky.

She sits atop a limestone building, still standing despite thousands of windstorms and cold desert nights. She thinks it may have been a temple, or maybe a government building; the carvings along the roof- what remains of them- are ornate, depicting women in long dresses and men with heads of sheep and mules. Absentmindedly, she runs her hand over the crumbling designs beneath her, eroded by time.

With an appraising eye, she surveys the ground beneath her- the place where they've camped for the night, where Mei sleeps soundly. Lan Fan sees her small hand, fingers curled, poking out from behind one of the solid support columns taht make up the temple. Xiao Mei sleeps soundly at her side.

From behind her, Ling says "It's cold."

Before she can turn to him, he's put a jacket over her shoulders and is sitting down beside her.

Lan Fan doesn't answer. She worries that if she looks him in the eyes, she will break and tell him everything. Her hands- her twiddling thumbs- suddenly become very interesting to her.

"You okay?" he asks quietly when the silence has gone on too long. 

"I'm fine," she tells him gruffly, "thank you."

They both know she's lying. Neither of them acknowledge it. All Ling can say is "hm".

It's good enough for her. She doesn't want to talk about it. She doesn't want to talk about Fu, or Greed, or anyone they met in Amestris. She wants to go back home and bury her traitorous thoughts with her grandfather, and then go back to doing her job as she should, unhindered by heartbreak or resentment.

"It's very quiet," says Ling. "Serene."

"I suppose it is, my lord."

His legs dangle off the edge of the roof, swaying absently with the frigid wind. "I hope the Elrics are alright."

"So do I."

He studies her with owlish focus. "You're worrying me."

"Why is that, my lord?" she asks, false lightness in her voice. He almost scowls.

"You know why."

Her shoulders tense. The jacket slides off. "I'm fine," she repeats firmly. "I don't need-"

"You miss him. Stop pretending."

She glares at him. "I'm not pretending anything. I don't know what gave you that idea, but-"

"He was your grandfather, Lan Fan, is your grandfather. Your heart isn't so cold-"

"My family grieves in a certain way, and just because you don't understand it..." She trails off because she doesn't want to- she can't- be angry with him. "Just leave it alone. Please, my lord."

Her voice breaks against her will, and Ling looks away, his lips pressed into a thin line. He doesn't like to see her hurting, and she hates for him to bear witness to her weakness. 

She asked him to stay out of the room when her arm was amputated. He could barely look at her when she bled out in the sewers, as he helped her saw off what remained of her arm. He bandaged the stump with his yellow jacket, which Lan Fan never saw again.

She sees the flashes of color and smells the stench of blood, feels the burning pain seeping from her shoulder blades into a limb that is no longer there. When she blinks, she sees his face on the back of her eyelids, contorted with focus and anger and heartbreak.

Ling reaches for her and she doesn't move away. He doesn't hold on for long; his fingers ghost over the knuckles of her flesh arm, making sure she's still there. He worries- she was missing from his side for a long time. "I'm sorry," he says, because there is nothing else to say.

Lan Fan doesn't know how to respond to that. Apologies won't bring Fu back. "I've tried to-" The words won't come out. She feels guilty. "I- I wish I could-"

"Ignore it?" She nods without speaking. "I know." Of course he does. He knows her better than anyone.

"It's not working."

"I'm sorry," he says again.

"Yeah." She jams her eyes closed because her vision is getting cloudy. She doesn't like to cry, especially not in front of him. "He taught me everything I know."

"It feels strange to cross the desert without him."

That phrase nearly breaks her, because it's true, and it's more than strange, it's heart-crushing and it's lonely and Lan Fan feels horrible. It's unavoidable. He was her companion on night watches; when he saw her starting to yawn, he'd tell her to go lie down, and she could make up for it with extra chores come morning. He would make her spicy soup when she was sick('good for the sinuses,' he'd tell her shortly), and always made sure to fold her belt around his index and middle fingers so it made a perfect loop.

She takes a short, sharp breath and puts her face in her hands. "I don't-" Her words come out in a shudder. Her lungs are threatening to break out of her throat. "He was my grandfather, and now he's-" She can't finish the sentence. It's too conclusive, too simple; Fu was a complex man, and his end was clear cut and definite. It didn't suit him. It doesn't.

Ling understands all of it and cannot fix it. "I know," he says. He knows everything. He thinks he does.

"If I'd gotten there sooner, I..." Lan Fan doesn't know what she would have done. She closes her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Lan Fan, I-" He takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. "I didn't know what he was planning until it was too late. He was like you in that respect. Always three steps ahead of me. Taking risks I'd... I never even considered." 

When she looks at him now, his face has the angles of Greed; he will never be purely Ling again. His vocabulary is Greed-like, the inflections of his voice carrying the echoes of his old friend. Lan Fan left him before the Promised Day and he took a monster into his flesh. That knowledge haunts her; he loved and lost Greed and it was her fault. If she'd only been there- 

She missed so much. She wonders how it happened. She hopes it didn't hurt too badly, absorbing the Stone.

"I failed you," she says. "I never should have done it. Any of it." It hits her, now, that all of her strategies were incredibly and disgustingly wrong, and she failed. She grits her teeth. "My lord, I'm so sorry."

His eyes reflect the moon when he turns to look at her. "You never failed me."

"Didn't I?"

"You did the best you could," he says reverently, putting an arm over her shoulders and pulling her into his side. "I know that."

"My best couldn't save Fu. It couldn't save you, or Greed-"

"He didn't need saving. He'd lived long enough. He was aware of that." Ling looks up to the sky. "I don't think he wanted to stick around, really. He missed his friends, you know?"

"But, my lord-"

"It's alright, Lan Fan. I'm okay. You saved my life more times than I can count." 

He brushes her hair out of her face and it makes her want to cry. Her lip begins to tremble independent of her will. "I miss him."

"He was a good man. I loved him like a father."

"He loved you like a son," she says, and watches how Ling's eyes well up at the corners. "He would be so proud, my lord. So proud."

"Of both of us."

She does not argue. Instead, she reaches for his free hand and presses it to her forehead- it's warm, despite the chill in the air. He leans his head atop hers, taking comfort in her presence beside him and the steady sound of her breathing.

They do not talk about what happens when they go home. They do not even think so far as the morning. Ling tells her about Greed's most daring adventures, and the beasts he called friends; they fondly recall old memories, a childhood in alleyways, sneaking still-steaming food from open restaurant windows. 

Lan Fan remembers the time she punched him, when they were twelve. Ling remembers when she made him promise not to tell Fu and swore that if he did she'd pickle his fingers and make him eat them.

They let themselves laugh- at childhood stupidity, at a homonculus's antics and a stern old man they once loved. Lan Fan reminds herself that she does not have to be miserable to be a good servant. When he kisses the knuckles of her metal hand, her lips twitch upward. She bats him away and he pokes her in the cheek.

For one moment, they are twelve again, antagonizing each other until Fu rounded the corner. Lan Fan can almost hear his footsteps. She finds him in the folds of her uniform, identical to the one he wore for as long as she can remember.

It's a small comfort. She finds that it is enough.


End file.
